EVERY PARENT knows about the Terrible Twos. That is the age when your darling child starts turning into a crazed werebaby.

The kid doesn't grow hair and teeth, but weird things happen practically overnight. One day you're dealing with a perfectly rational 20-month-old child who thinks the sun rises and sets on your thinning hairline; the next, you've got a kid who's going nuts on you and knows only one word: "No!"

If you say it's time to go to bed, the little angel will turn to you and scream, "No!"

Tell him to pick up his toys and he says, "No!" Suggest he eat his vegetables . . . "NO!"

It's the Terrible Twos, and more experienced parents will chuckle when a new set of parents enter the gates of hell and start talking about it. The good news is that the Terrible Twos last only 10 to 15 years; then your child enters a new phase of life.

Parents dismiss the Terrible Twos as punishment for having unprotected sex. But what did they do to deserve the next part of a child's life, that part of life called the Terrible Teens?

Never heard of it, you say? Of course you haven't heard of it, because parents of teenagers take an oath never to speak about the Terrible Teens to anyone outside the circle of other teen parents.

Some parents know the Terrible Teens by its more formal name: What's Bugging The Kid Now?

This phase of a child's life starts sometime after the 13th birthday; the first sign of phase onset is a change in the child's facial movements. At the start of a Terrible Teen outbreak, the child actually loses his or her ability to communicate with any person who once was called Mom or Dad.

For example, if you were to ask a teen some outrageously intrusive question like, "How was your day at school?" you would notice that the teen loses control of his eyeballs and they actually roll back so far in the teen's head you can see only the white parts.

If you continue your third-degree grilling, asking about friends or homework, the eyeballs roll around like a slot machine in Vegas, and tiny little snorts come out of the child's mouth.

Finally, the child will attempt to answer you, saying something like, "Grrmmmm," and then skittering off into his bedroom before you have a chance to ask, "What did you say?"

The Truly Unpleasant Mrs. Johnston and I have four children who have either gone through the Terrible Teens, are right in the middle of the Terrible Teens or are starting out.

Whatever stage the child is in, it upsets Mrs. Johnston to no end. As a professional mother, Mrs. Johnston thinks that if she can talk to a child long enough, the constant chatter will get the kid out of whatever life phase the child is going through. But it makes the kid's eyeballs roll only farther back into his head.

When our three boys entered their Terrible Teens stage, it didn't bother me too much. Matter of fact, it was kind of quiet around the house (except for Mrs. Johnston asking questions all the time). But I was surprised when our daughter started her journey into Tortured Teen Territory.

I used to be able to ask her questions and she would answer me. But now her eyeballs are constantly rolling and her stock answer to everything I say is, "Whatever."

Do your homework, I'll command. "Whatever." And what would you like for dinner, sweetie? "Whatever."

I told Mrs. Johnston I had lost communication with our daughter, but I was hoping that in 10 or 12 years she would return to us.

I looked over at Mrs. Johnston and noticed her eyeballs were rolled to the back of her head. I knew what was coming next.

"Whatever," Mrs. Johnston said. Apparently, it runs in the family.

Steve Johnston is a retired Seattle Times reporter now working as a freelance writer. Paul Schmid is a Seattle Times news artist.